


Legend

by TheDragon



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Era, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Merlin, M/M, Minor Character Death, Spells & Enchantments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 11:00:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9817040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDragon/pseuds/TheDragon
Summary: “That spell is a myth, a legend. Merlin created it and cast it at the behest of King Arthur. If any Knight of the Round Table under that spell was killed in the company of lesser Knights, he would absorb all the lives of those around him.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> The warnings are in the tags.
> 
> This was written for reel-merlin. It's inspired a bit more by Constantine the TV show rather than the movie, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

_“That spell is a myth, a legend. Merlin created it and cast it at the behest of King Arthur. If any Knight of the Round Table under that spell was killed in the company of lesser Knights, he would absorb all the lives of those around him.”_

What no one knows is that it’s not just the spell that’s a legend — it’s also the story behind it.

~oOo~

Arthur feels it when he dies— how the darkness is slow to overcome him, creeping up on the edges of his vision, and how light takes its place the moment he allows his eyelids to slip shut. The coldness he felt as he was lying on the ground, bleeding out, is replaced by an all-encompassing warmth. He feels like he’s being embraced by someone, like someone’s arms are around him, pulling him forward. Pain is a distant concept. Here, he’s at peace. He’s calm in a way that he never felt before, and he takes step after step forward, slowly making his way further into the warmth.

But then, suddenly, there’s a presence behind him, dark and foreboding. It stretches a clawed hand and tears him away from the warmth, harshly yanking him back the way he came from— back to the coldness and pain and—

He gasps for air when he awakens, and the moment he does, he realises that something is terribly wrong— the fact that he wakes up at all.

He blinks, looking up at the bright sky above him, then turns his head to the side when the sound of muffled sobs reaches his ears. He sees Merlin staring at him, and he feels Merlin’s hands wound around his body, but amidst it all, there’s still that overwhelming feeling of wrongness, like he shouldn’t be here. He was stabbed. Mordred stabbed him. _He shouldn’t be here_.

He _sees_. He _hears_. He can _smell_ and _taste_ and _feel_ , and he should, for all intents and purposes, be dead.

He looks up at Merlin’s tear-ridden face and all of a sudden, he knows who it was that pulled him away from the light and back into the world.

“What have you done to me?” he gasps, struggling to move away from Merlin, who is still holding him, still crying.

“Y-you’re alive,” Merlin whispers, looking at Arthur, wide-eyed. “You’re alive!” he repeats, this time with a small laugh. Merlin’s hands are all over Arthur’s torso, pushing and prodding to check on the should-have-been-mortal injury. His first instinct is to flinch away, but then he realises that it doesn’t _hurt_ , but no, that’s wrong, because he knows he was wounded, that he fell in battle and there’s no reason for it _not_ to hurt—

“What did you do?” Arthur asks again, trying to force his trembling limbs to move away from Merlin. Merlin lets him go, but the next moment he’s running his hands down Arthur’s chest again, then down his arms and his legs, as if he can’t believe that Arthur’s alive and sitting right in front of him.

“I can’t believe it worked…” Merlin whispers into the silence that has fallen between them, bringing a hand up to his face to wipe away the tears that have begun to gather again. He moves it and brushes his knuckles against Arthur’s cheek, another sob making its way past his lips.

“What did you do?” Arthur asks with trepidation, unable to stop his voice from shaking, unable to dispel the feeling of wrongness, of guilt, and he doesn’t even know why he feels guilty in the first place.

“I brought you back. I did what I had to.” Merlin’s voice is no longer soft and pained, but hard and dark, and it’s only then that Arthur stops to take in their surroundings.

They’re still on the battlefield, except that where there used to be men fighting, there are just corpses— one body piled up on top of another. That would not cause much disconcert, if not for the fact that not all of the men are lying in pools of their own blood, and not many of them look to have any injuries. They look like they simply _fell_ right where they were standing.

Arthur abruptly pushes himself to his feet, taking a few steps away from Merlin, legs shaking with the sudden fear that’s overcome him.

“Merlin… what?” he asks, but he already knows the answer to the question he was going to ask. He sees warriors, enemies and allies alike, all lying the ground, looking like marionettes with their strings cut, like something had sucked the life force right out of them.

“You didn’t,” he says, shaking his head in denial. His stomach feels as though it’s been hollowed out; he feels like he’s going to be sick because it he’s right, if Merlin did what Arthur thinks he did, then… then…

“Merlin, please tell me you didn’t.”

Merlin stands up and looks at him defiantly, eyes glowing golden with anger.

“I did what I had to do to keep you alive,” he says, his tone brooking no argument. He sounds cold and detached, and so unlike the man Arthur had come to love that Arthur can't help but to flinch. “Their lives were a small price to pay.”

Arthur takes a step back, reeling, and then he takes another. Merlin isn’t moving, but there’s something in his eyes, something wrong, and all Arthur can think of is that this isn’t the friend he knew. His Merlin would never be so heartless, so merciless. His Merlin would have looked for another solution to save Arthur’s life.

His Merlin wouldn’t have killed everyone else just to keep Arthur alive.

But wouldn’t he have? Arthur’s traitorous mind supplies. After all, he’d seen how devoted Merlin was to him, how he was loyal to a fault and willing to do anything if it meant keeping him safe. But this?

“You can’t—” Arthur begins, looking at the lifeless bodies around them. “I should have died,” he says. It’s wrong, he feels wrong. There’s something in the pit of his stomach or maybe it’s his heart? It’s like there’s a part of him missing or there’s too many parts of him to fit, and he doesn’t understand; doesn’t _want_ to understand, because that would mean coming to terms with the fact that he’s never really known Merlin. “My life isn’t wor—”

“Arthur!” Merlin snaps at him, looking so livid that Arthur refrains from finishing that sentence. Merlin is standing before him, eyes a molten gold and a gust of wind making his hair dance, and he looks so powerful, so self-righteous. Arthur’s never seen him like this before, and he can’t help but to spare a second to grieve for the innocent boy who came to Camelot ten years ago, eyes filled with so much wonder at the world.

“You can’t mess with life and death,” Arthur says, shaking his head. “Damn it, Merlin! You’re not a god, you can’t do things like this!”

“The gods aren’t always right!” Merlin shouts. “They were wrong. It’s not your time yet. You can’t—” he cuts off, looking so much smaller than he did a few seconds ago. “You can’t leave yet. You can’t leave Camelot, not like this. You can’t leave me,” he whispers, the last sentence sounding less like a statement and more like a plea. “Arthur—”

“You’ve killed them all!” Arthur shouts back, waving his hand towards the field of corpses, stretching as far as the eye can see. What if Leon is there, somewhere? Or Gwaine, or Percival? What if they’re dead now, too, and all because of him, to save his life? “Merlin, how could you?!”

“It was the price for saving your life,” Merlin says, “And I paid it gladly. You’re more important, Arthur. Their lives were nothing in comparison. They died for their King, like they’d always longed for.”

“They wanted to die in battle, protecting the land and its people!” Arthur shouts. There are tears gathering in his eyes, he can feel them. His eyes sting and he blinks rapidly, trying to push them away, but he can’t do anything about the horror he feels.

“They died for a cause no less honorable!” Merlin spits. “They died to ensure the land will be ruled justly for centuries to come!”

Arthur feels his blood run cold at the words, and watches as Merlin stands in front of him entirely unrepentant.

“What?” Arthur asks, uncomprehendingly. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve absorbed their life force. Even. Even if someone tries to kill you again, you won’t die. And if they don’t, you’ll just continue to live until all the life force has been used up,” Merlin replies. He’s reaching out towards Arthur, but Arthur jerks away from him. Merlin bites his lip and drops his hands. “You don’t understand, Arthur, just how important you are. I’m not going to let you die,” he says, desperation shining through when he begins to gesticulate.

“So you curse me to live for eternity, to walk through the centuries alone?” Arthur asks. “All because you couldn’t bear to see a man die when it was his time?” His mind is running in circles. Immortal. He’s not going to die. He’ll continue living as everything around him falls apart, watching as everyone he loves _leaves_.

“It wasn’t! It wasn’t your time yet, and you know it! Damn the gods! Damn destiny!” Merlin is shouting again, and his voice is the last thing Arthur need to hear right now. “I couldn’t just let you die!”

“Get out of my sight,” Arthur says, gritting his teeth when he hears his voice break.

“Arthur…” Merlin whispers, his voice so pleading that Arthur can’t help but to clench his fists sides to prevent himself from hitting something, _someone_.

“Out. Of. My. Sight,” he repeats, unclenching one hand to cover his eyes as he drops to his knees on the ground. He can feel Merlin’s hesitation, and in his mind he can almost see the conflicted look that must be on Merlin’s face right now, but he won’t be disobeyed. “Now!” he roars, listening as Merlin hesitates and takes a small, unsure step forward, then turns on his heel and walks away.

“For what it’s worth,” Merlin says, stopping a few paces away. “I’m glad you’re alive.”

This time, Arthur can’t quite refrain from punching the ground.


End file.
